


The Last One You’d Expect

by Priestlyislove



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brick dies a bunch of times, Dark Comedy, F/M, Ggtlam lines and lyrics snuck in, Humor, Irony, Jealousy, Just a bunch of horrible yet entertaining people really, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Graphic Violence, Polyamory, Robot Discrimination, Robot/Human Relationships, Time Travel, Weddings, cruel and unusual deaths, robot Cav because I can actually write anything i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: A loose and occasionally ridiculous Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder au, in which Cavendish is a gentleman who learns about love, and...murder.





	1. Chapter 1

Inadequate, expendable, bottom of the barrel, without any remarkable skill. All common phrases used to describe Balthazar Cavendish, a fellow with impossible aspirations and more complexes than a person has time to name. He was a time traveler, which sounds like a perfectly respectable job, except for the fact that he was in the lowest class of it. So low, in fact, they had invented a new class just for him. Which might pass as an achievement, like a participation award given to the kid who tripped not ten feet into the race and never actually made it to the finish line.

The only reason he hadn’t been fired yet was most likely the fact that he was a token, a false representation of the diversity and open heart of the bureau. The biggest time travel agency had a robot hired as a real agent, and that did wonders for them when it came to the press. They never mentioned their robot was the malfunctioning Cavendish, who felt too much and did too little to count as a successful droid.

And while it was infuriating and humiliating, he had to admit there was a silver lining to all the misfortune. A gorgeous, soft haired, full bodied silver lining. He was partnered up with the most handsome agent who had ever graced the bureau, Vinnie Dakota, a man who was certainly capable of a lot more than what he put out. He clearly had no qualms with being disrespected or looked down on, as he never strived for more. Maybe he was happy where he was. With Cavendish. Cavendish was beyond happy to be with him. And today he was going to tell him exactly that.

He rapped his knuckles against his door, anxiety seizing him for the upteenth. Dakota had invited him over willingly, and Cavendish was as prepared as physically possible to visit, but he still found himself panicking. He had rehearsed what he was going to say a billion times, but now his mind was blank.

Dakota opened the door, smiling, as carefree as ever. Cavendish stared dumbly at him. He was wearing a shirt that was striped with pink and white bands and shorts that had hot pink hearts stretched over the sides of his hips and thighs. His hair was tied out of his face in a sloppy bow and he looked perfect. He _was_ perfect.

Catching his stare, Dakota giggled, twirling back inside, “don't you just love me in pink?” His apartment was modern, an open design with walls only hiding the bedroom and bathroom. Everything was as flashy and mismatched as the way Dakota dressed, and untidy would’ve been a generous term to describe the state of it.

Cavendish followed after him, nearly tripping over his own feet. Unable to manage coherent speech, he just produced the box of chocolates he had brought, thrusting it forward stiffly. Dakota took the box, “ooh, you’ve brought me chocolates!” He kissed him on the cheek in playful thanks, and Cavendish’s face burned so hot he was worried he’d overheat his mainframe. Wouldn’t be the first time. Dakota plopped down on the couch, doing away with the lid and unwrapping a piece. He patted the spot next to him. “Sit down, sit down! Don’t be such a stranger.”

Cavendish hurriedly sat down next to him. “There’s a matter of some urgency I was hoping we could discuss.” he stuttered out.

Dakota popped two more candies into his mouth, “No, no, of course, but first there’s something I need to tell you.” He leaned forward, snatching a piece of paper off the coffee table. He took a breath then turned it around so Cavendish could read it. At first, Cavendish’s brain refused to make sense of the words brandished before him. Then, his heart would not allow him to accept it as true. There had to be some kind of mistake.

Dakota was being reassigned. He was moving up the ladder, and Cavendish wanted to be enthusiastic for him, but a new mission meant a new partner. Dakota was being upgraded, and Cavendish was being left behind. His cloud was being carried off by the wind, leaving Cavendish nothing to get him through the storm.

Dakota’s face fell, taking in Cavendish’s kicked puppy expression. “Oh, poor Cav, have I just broken your heart?” Dakota laughed, but it was weak. “I know it’s gonna be a change, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be awful. I bet you’ll have forgotten my name by the end of the week. You’ll find a new partner, and you’ll have even more fun than we ever did. And one day I’ll hear about all that fun, and think to myself, poor me, having to give that up.” There was a weariness to his tone, as if he were the one who had just been given the worst news of his life.

“This can’t be what you want,” Cavendish breathed, too full of disbelief to be angry. His mind was racing with ideas and entirely hollow at the same time. 

Dakota set the paper back on the table, grabbing a fistful of chocolate. Eating helped calm him down, or that was what he had told Cavendish. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he spoke with his mouth full, “you know that.” He did not meet his eyes, voice low, “They say you’re holding me back. They think I’ll be less lazy if I have a partner who will keep me up to shape or something.”

Cavendish balled his hands into fists on his lap, clutching his pants like they could give him a solution. You could practically hear the whirring of gears in his head (if you pressed your ear against him, you really would). “I-I’ll send in a request,” he didn’t sound as confident as he would’ve liked. He was grasping for straws, and he knew it. “My track record isn’t the best, but I’m a hard worker and we’ve had a bit more success than usual these past couple assignments. If they would just put me on probation, I could prove myself. We can still be together.”

Dakota smiled sadly at him, cupping his cheek, his fingers calloused yet soft. Cavendish wished his touches were romantic, that he felt the same way Cavendish did and showered him in affection for it. But there was an edge of condescension to it all that left Cavendish desperately wondering how Dakota saw him. Was there any possibility for love, or would it only ever be pity? “I hope you’re right, Cavendish.” His expression turned curious. “Now what did you want to talk about?”

Cavendish swallowed. Dakota had always been a lofty image, but now he was officially higher up than Cavendish. Confessing his feelings would just make him look more ridiculous than he already did. “It seems I’ve forgotten.” He forced a smile. “I’ll return if I remember.”

He got up and walked to the door, arms stiff at his sides. “Cavendish, wait!” Dakota pleaded, but he did not turn back. He could not.

The next time he faced Dakota, he would be on his level.

Mr. Block called him into his office so that he could address his request personally. He did this by laughing in his face for three whole minutes. “ _You’re_ asking to be promoted?” He rasped. “If nothing else, I hoped you still had some shred of dignity.”

Cavendish stood his ground, his face hot once more with shame. “Please, sir, if you only gave me a chance-“

“Oh, yeah, I'll give you a chance all right,” Mr. Block pressed his thumb against his neck and did a slashing movement. “If Agent Brick were to suddenly drop dead, then I might just give you a chance!”

Cavendish flinched. His shoulders slumped, the reality of his situation finally setting in. There was no way he and Dakota would ever work together again. His ascent to the top would not be slowed by Cavendish, and it was foolish of him to think otherwise. “Yes, sir.” He mumbled.

“Now get out of my office.” Mr. Block spat, pulling out a different file to make it clear he was not going to spend another minute on Cavendish. Cavendish walked out of the office, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. To rub salt in the wound, Brick happened to be passing through the hall right then.

“Want one?” Brick waved a soda in front of his face. “Vending machine spat out two of them. You think with how advanced technology is in this decade, stuff like that wouldn’t happen.”

Cavendish took the soda, out of social convention more than actual desire. He didn’t even like soda. Brick started to walk, and his gait was so big and confident that he could silently order Cavendish to walk with him.

“I don’t understand the point of half those machines, if I’m being honest. All this junk we don’t need that just ends up filling dumps,” he took a swig from his can. “‘Specially robots. Why get a bunch of bolts to try and fill a human’s role? We’ve been doing it just fine for centuries.”

It was still odd to Cavendish, how ever since he got that synthetic skin, he passed as a human to the point where people felt comfortable sharing thoughts like that with him. He supposed it came from a place of denial more than anything; people weren’t looking for a robot, so they didn’t see one.

“That’s a cruel thing to say,” Cavendish spoke up against his better judgement. “The right to exist shouldn’t be based off of the purpose the living thing fulfills.”

Brick snorted. “They’re not living things.” So that’s the sort of person he was. An ignorant jerk who could not be farther from deserving Dakota’s company. But did Cavendish deserve it any more?

They walked up the stairs. The halls were strangely quiet, lacking the usual bustle of agents. Maybe it was a slow day. Time travelers were needed when they were needed, and rarely existed in the in betweens.

As Brick stepped, he lost his balance for a second, teetering on the edge of the stair. Cavendish glanced down the way they came up. It was far enough to kill a human, if they landed wrong. How fragile. Why did somebody so fragile think he was worth so much more than anybody else?

He was not straightening back up, waving his arms around wildly. Eyes wide, he reached out for Cavendish for support. Cavendish almost reached out, but he remembered what Mr. Block had said. If Brick died...no, he couldn’t kill someone. He would do almost anything for Dakota, but that crossed a line.

And yet, was it really murder to not end _nor_ aid a life? The absence of truth was not necessarily a lie. It was just allowing a situation to play out in a way that would be favorable for you. So he drew his hand back, and simply watched. You can’t kill someone by standing still. But you can’t save them either, and that’s what Cavendish was counting on.

Brick slipped, falling backwards with a rather embarrassing scream. There was a thud and a snap and a fizzle as his soda spilt over the floor. He was motionless, and the angle of his neck suggested he was going to stay that way.

Cavendish continued up the stairs as if nothing happened, taking a sip of his drink and grimacing. There really was nothing redeemable about the taste.

Cavendish nearly died of fright as Brick walked by him, coming from a different direction and looking surprisingly alive. Brick did not spare him a passing glance, busy in his own head. Cavendish watched him walk away, dumbstruck.

That was the tricky thing about time travel. You think a guy is dead as a doorknob, but there’s him from the past and him from abandoned timelines you have to watch out for. All regulated by the bureau, after all, there couldn’t be too many of one person running around. The risk of paradox would be too high.

He stopped Gretchen in the hall, much to her annoyance. She adjusted her glasses, “what is it?”

“How many Bricks are in the world right now?” He asked, wringing his hands together. He laughed nervously, “the agent, not the little, uh, red squares.”

His question should’ve been suspicious, but he wasn’t a very suspicious man. Barely capable of the bare minimum, no one would be able to fathom him doing something malicious. “Eight, as of right now. Can I go?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he stepped out of her way, weighing his options. Seven of them, then. Seven that would have to die. He could handle seven, even a complete buffoon could handle seven. If his luck continued as it just did, then he might not have to do very much to ensure his future with Dakota. He could see him, standing before him, only a little river of blood keeping them apart.

Perhaps he hadn’t been so foolish for dreaming after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Cheese and crackers, what happened to your face?” His inventor, the only man who could’ve made a bot like Cavendish, a man as eccentric as he was germanic, Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz furrowed his brows upon seeing him. “I forgot how terrifying you look.”

Cavendish touched his cheek subconsciously, feeling the exposed metal. “I was only trying to do my job. I think a bird took it.” Another failed pistachio mission with Dakota. They technically wouldn’t be separated until next week, so they still had to do their job like everything was normal. Dakota was trying extra hard to keep things normal, forcing jokes and a preppy attitude so that Cavendish wouldn’t feel too down. He had come with to drop off Cavendish, as per the bureau’s rules, but he didn’t come up with him. Maybe he didn’t want to be there if he shared the unfortunate news with the doctor. Instead, he ran off to buy some past snack he adored that had since been discontinued. 

Doofenshmirtz grimaced. “Oh, that’s so much worse. Can you imagine finding that stuff in a bird’s nest? Whatever, come in, I’ve got another for you.” He was probably one of the best technical minds to have ever lived. Unfortunately, his field was limited to machines, and his social skills and problem solving left a lot to be desired. A robot that could feel was revolutionary in design, just ineffective in practice. He didn’t let the scientific community’s shunning slow him down, though he often swore revenge. It was a wonder they didn’t take away his licenses all together, but he supposed that was one of the positives of being the father of the woman who invented time travel.

Cavendish followed him inside, taking a seat on the open space of his work table. He flicked a little box, making it click and whir. Once he was satisfied with that, he folded his hands politely in his lap. He watched Doofenshmirtz search for parts quietly for a moment. It had been a while since he had been in his lab, but that was in his time. For Doofenshmirtz, it had only been a week or two. He finally spoke, giving voice and form to his fears, “Did you program me to be evil?” After the little incident the other day, he was worried that perhaps he was Doofenshmirtz’s latest revenge plan. Why else would you build a robot that didn’t value human life above all else?

“Okay, what happened?” Doofenshmirtz did not look at him. He didn’t need to. Nobody asked about evil for no reason.

“Nothing of importance.” Cavendish wasn’t a good liar, but this wasn’t really a lie. Brick’s death had no significant impact on him, which might’ve been significant in itself, but no matter. “No, that’s not true. Something did happen. Dakota’s been reassigned.” 

“Oof, that’s rough, buddy,” Doofenshmirtz said sympathetically, walking over to him and double checking his measurements. “Easy come, easy go. But to answer your question, no, I didn’t build you for evil. I built you to feel.”

“And what was the purpose of that?” Cavendish sighed miserably. Days like these made him wish he couldn’t feel. Maybe he’d be better at his job that way.

“What’s the purpose of anything?” Doofenshmirtz waved him off, plastering new fake skin onto his face. “If you like this one better, we can rip off the rest of it and cover you in this instead.”

Cavendish nodded smally. “May I ask one more little thing of you?” He held his thumb and forefinger apart to demonstrate how small the favor would be.

“Shoot.” Doofenshmirtz was already moving on, picking up the little box that Cavendish had flicked and frowning disapprovingly at it.

“Do you, by any chance, have a touch of cyanide I could borrow?”

It was Brick’s day off, and so Cavendish followed him from a safe distance. He was probably being too careful, even if Brick saw him, he wouldn’t think twice about it. While the accidental death of one Brick was unfortunate, who could suspect foul play? Even the greatest agent can trip.

In his caution, he ended up missing a good many chances to poison him. He had stopped at a cafe, for goodness sake! If he could’ve just slipped it into his coffee, he would already be back home by now. In a turn of fortune, Brick was now outside of the public’s eye. But now he was alone with some young girl, ice skating on a frozen little lake in the middle of nowhere. Not exactly the ideal place for poisoning.

Cavendish was hiding behind a tree, watching them and mentally cursing himself a thousand times over. If only he had brought a knife, he could have just grabbed him and discreetly knocked him on the head and stabbed him, and oh, how easy things would’ve been if he had brought a gun! He needed to figure out a solution quickly, before he lost his nerve and ran away.

But then, if he was feeling flighty, perhaps he hadn’t thought this through enough. He had been so caught up he never stopped and cemented his comfort zone. Murder was not exactly a hobby for the timid. What if he froze up? That would be mortifying. And killing really was so gruesome, it just wasn’t like him at all. Unless…

Seeing Brick on the ice struck him with sudden inspiration. The thin, _thin_ , ice. Now that he could handle. A nice, clean, humane death. Looks like he wouldn’t need the poison in his pocket after all.

Cavendish made his way over to their discarded things. Brick had brought his work bag, and his last mission had left him with many things, one of which being a hacksaw. Cavendish could use that. There was another set of skates, and Cavendish wondered if Brick had been planning for another person to join them. It wasn’t any of his business, however, and it wasn’t very gentlemanly to pry. He chuckled to himself, “what a stroke of luck that Dakota teased me until I learned to skate!” He had never been that graceful on his feet, but what Dakota desired of him, Dakota got.

Closer to them now, he recognized the girl. She was an agent from a different division who Dakota once asked on a date, only for her to humiliate him in front of as many people as she could. Did she deserve to die? That sort of thing wasn’t up to Cavendish, but was she _going_ to die? That he could answer.

He began sawing at the ice, careful to remain out of sight and cut away where the ice was thinnest. The cold helped him function better, and he was feeling pleasantly confident. Brick and the girl were too busy looking into each other’s eyes to notice his artistry. It was diabolic, he could admit that. Was he hesitating? Perhaps he had some semblance of a conscious, a sense of morality holding him back. But, no! In truth, he was a tad exhilarated. He had never done anything so risky before. It was not impossible that he could be caught, but that just made it more exciting.

The ice cracked, freeing him of his thoughts, and he moved to a portion that was too thick to break. Brick and the girl noticed it too, but did not move fast enough to avoid plunging in. There, it was over like that-

“AAAAAAHHH,” Brick resurfaced, and if Cavendish suffered from such ailments, he might’ve had a heart attack. He certainly screamed back. Brick clawed at the ice, but could not get a grip, falling back in. That was terrifying, but at least he was dead for real this time-

“AAAAAAH AAAAHH OH GOD SOMEONE HELP” Once more, his head was above the surface of the frigid water, arms thrashing pointlessly. Cavendish severely miscalculated the ease of drowning. Brick sunk again, and this time Cavendish waited for a few moments before making any claims. He skated closer, peering into the dark abyss. There was no further movement. He let out a relieved sigh, brushing off his hands.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard,” he mused to himself, gliding back over to the shoreline. “Even a novice like myself was able to pull it off.”

He made his way back into civilization, a spring in his step. Things were going so well it was almost frightening. Perhaps fate was, for the first time, on his side. This theory was aided by the fact that as he walking through town, through a bar window he saw Brick surrounded by friends, mouth wide open, mid complaint. Not the ideal location for an assassination, but he could get the ball rolling.

He entered the bar, bell jingling overhead, a little warning from the angel of death. He slipped into the group without anyone taking notice. What was there to notice? Brick, as he suspected, was complaining, “I haven’t had a good mission in weeks. Nothing newsworthy, you know? It’s like I’m being treated like a casual agent. I save the world, I don’t do little missions.”

In the murmurs of affirmation that followed, Cavendish slipped in, “I heard they’re sending someone else to the moon, even.” People agreed with him without even processing what he had said, including Brick.

“Can you believe it? The moon...wait, what’s happening on the moon?” Brick raised an eyebrow. His group shrugged and glanced around, trying to figure out who knew.

“In May of 2132, a new virus is brought back to earth. It’s devastating, really, so the bureau was going to send a top agent to take care of it.” Cavendish spoke innocently, neglecting to mention that this was also when a minor civil war broke out on the lunar surface, too short to be mentioned in history books, but bloody enough where a pompous time agent caught in the crossfire would most certainly be killed.

“Outrageous. I could handle something like that all by myself!” Brick argued, receiving cries of agreement. He stood up, “in fact, I will!” He left the bar to get to work immediately, followed by cheers. Cavendish excused himself as well, trying to bury his smile. Two down in one afternoon was not a bad start.

He entered a perfumery next. It had a kind of retro charm that people liked, but was brimming with smells and beauty devices that were clearly from the future. He picked out some lavender perfume, old school, yet it wasn’t put on the market until 2080, because it was irresistible to bees, back when they were around. It was a perfectly harmless purchase these days, so the cashier did not think twice before ringing him up.

As he left the shop, someone came up behind and slapped him heartily on the back, nearly knocking him over. He straightened back up after stumbling a couple steps to discover it was Brick.

“Thanks for the heads up about the moon virus,” he grinned. “Just got back, and wanted to let you know you’ll be seeing my face on the screen soon. Not only did I wipe out that disease, I also stopped a political dispute. I might have just prevented a war!”

Cavendish stared at him, heating up with fury. That was impossible! No, Brick was a talented agent. He couldn’t forget that, no matter how confident he felt. “Glad I could help.” He responded coolly, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Any other stellar missions you’ve got up your sleeve?” Brick laughed. So he didn’t just come to gloat. He was hoping Cavendish would still be useful to him. How could he say no? Robots were invented to serve.

“Remember that little island seven kilometers off of Australia’s southern shore? I’m sure you don’t, because no one does. There was nothing significant about it, except for a species of bird that inhabited it up until 206, and some pharmacists believe its vibrant blue feathers held the key to eliminating stomach flu. If you rescued some, I’m sure they’d regard you as a hero.” This time, there were two facts he left out. The reason the bird went extinct was a volcano erupting. And the other was these birds were big enough and aggressive enough to eat a full grown man. “They nest on the mountain, so you’ll want to stick inland.”

Brick winked, giving him another rather painful slap on the back. “Got it. See ya on the flipside.” He took off again, moving with that ridiculous swagger he had.

“Hopefully not,” Cavendish muttered after him. With that most likely out of the way, he made his way back to headquarters. He had texted Dakota earlier in the day to see if he’d want to go on a little adventure. Cavendish claimed it had something or other to do with pistachios. Just because he was ready to kill doesn’t mean he was willing to break every rule, so he needed someone to go with him if he was going to time travel.

Dakota was already waiting by their time vehicle. “So where we goin’?” He spun the key ring around his finger, until he did it too fast and it went flying.

Cavendish picked it up for him and ushered him to the passenger’s side. “April 5th, 2019. I was hoping we could ensure the pollination of some pistachio plants.”

“Don’t Brick and Savannah have a mission that day?” Dakota said, catching Cavendish off guard. He buckled his seatbelt, making no further accusations.

“D-do they? I didn’t realize.” He jammed the keys in the ignition. Why would Dakota point that out? How much did he know? Was his scheme already over before it had to the chance to really begin?

“Maybe we could say hi,” Dakota continued brightly, unbothered by Cavendish’s apparent nervousness. He supposed he was always nervous, even when he had no good reason to be. It was like the opposite of a poker face. If you were always acting oddly, then you were never acting oddly.

“Of course.” Cavendish got them there, just barely avoiding crashing into a tree. Dakota hopped out of the car, stretching as if the ride had been long. Cavendish followed him out, pointing a few yards away. “Why, look, there’s Savannah right there. You ought to say hello. I can handle the pistachios.”

Dakota did not need to be told twice. He fixed his hair, his cheeks turning pink. “Okay, wish me luck,” he gave him double thumbs up before scrambling over to her like a lovesick puppy.

Cavendish was not here for pistachios. He knew Brick and Savannah were on a bee saving mission, one that prolonged the existence of the species for decades longer than they should’ve lasted. He unscrewed the top of the lavender perfume, walking to where Brick was working with a beehive, a good distance from Savannah. She was being distracted by Dakota, so she wouldn’t get in the way.

“Oh, wow, what a coincidence running into you!” Cavendish greeted him cheerily, ‘accidentally’ tripping and spilling the perfume all over him. Brick cried in disgust. “Oh goodness, how dreadfully clumsy of me, let me help you clean that u-“

“You’ve done more than enough!” Brick growled. “Your stupidity is not going to ruin my mission. Get back to saving the walnuts.” As he spoke, a swarm of bees approached him. He tried to swat them away, but they just would not stop coming. Hundreds upon hundreds of bees were taking interest in him.

“If you insist,” Cavendish backed away, leaving him to deal with the inevitable attack. It would only take about a thousand stings to finish him off. Which was the tiniest bit cruel, but it made the whole affair simpler for Cavendish. Brick was going to die either way, so it only made sense for him to watch out for himself in that aspect. 

He walked back over to Dakota and Savannah, who were chatting so easily Cavendish felt like he was being stung as well (by jealousy, not by a horrifying multitude of insects). Dakota really seemed to fancy her. He was physical and flirty with everyone, but there was something about the way she could joke on his level that made her appear to be a perfect match for him. Not to mention she could kick his butt to next Tuesday, which was something he looked for in a woman.

“What are you two talking about?” Cavendish asked once he was near enough.

Dakota smiled at him, but the thrill that usually filled him was missing, considering how Dakota’s arm was wrapped around Savannah’s waist. “Savannah was just saying how much easier it’d be able to save yourself from heartbreak if you could look at somebody an’ see ‘em inside out. Y’know, a book with a matching cover and all that.”

“Sometimes the most unassuming people are the most horrible,” Savannah knelt down, plucking a little bunch of purple flowers from the ground at their feet. She straightened up, sticking it into Cavendish’s breastpocket. “Atropa belladonna, for example. More commonly known as nightshade. Beautiful, but deadly. Our world is so crazy and upside down these days, someone who is inside out might be able to turn it upside right.”

Cavendish tucked the blooms in. “Inside out, hmm? That’s a lovely way of thinking of it. What would you see in me like that? Straight through to my heart.” He tapped his finger against the pocket, covering both his heart and the nightshade.

Dakota laughed, pulling Savannah closer to his side. “Cavendish, you’d look the same from any angle. A little handsome, a little clever, awfully strange, but gentler than a kitten. Saying you have a dark side would be like saying the sun had one.”

Savannah ran a hand teasingly through Dakota’s hair. “I’d have to agree there.” Savannah glanced over her shoulder, a worried look crossing her face. It did nothing to tarnish her beauty. She and Dakota really did make a lovely pair. And that was infuriating. “Did you hear something? It sounded like...screaming.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Cavendish shrugged haplessly. “I suppose even if you knew everything there is to know about someone, there’d still be some mysteries.”

“Alright, let’s say we ditch Brick for a minute and grab a bite to eat,” Dakota jerked his thumb in a random direction as he walked. His aura was almost opposite to Brick’s, and yet they could both make people go wherever they liked. “He won’t even notice we’re gone!”

“You’ve got that right,” Savannah blew a strand of hair out of her face. “He’s such a showoff, always trying to do everything by himself. One of these days he’s going to get himself killed.”

“We shouldn’t joke about things like that.” Cavendish scolded her gently, covering the distant, bloodcurdling sound of screaming with a cough.

“Oh Cav, always the paragon,” Dakota teased. “You don’t have a bad screw in your body! Loosen up a little, this isn’t a fireside girl meeting.”

“Those things were intense,” Savannah turned to Dakota, who dived into a conversation of the madness that was their childhoods. But it didn’t matter. No matter how pretty and witty Savannah was, or how much she had in common with Dakota, Cavendish would still win his heart by the end of the day.

If he could kill Brick, then there was no roadblock to big for him. 


	3. Chapter 3

When the bastard didn’t have the decency to drop dead on killer bird volcano island, Cavendish just cut his brake lines and called it a day. Apparently, he had to do everything himself, and made up his mind to complete each assassination on his own. Right after he decided that, one of the Bricks died of a heart attack with no prompting, thanks to work stress.

At the very least, that saved him some time.

He continued his dirty work with a passion. There was something so satisfying about a proper killing. In the training room, he piled on the weights, egging on Brick’s pride until he decapitated himself. That one was messy. He couldn’t get the bloodstain out of his coat or shoes no matter how many times he washed them. He kept his distance with the next one, not wanting to ruin any more clothes. Space travel was such a dangerous game for humans, really, even if he hadn’t cut off his oxygen supply something else was bound to go wrong.

There was only one left for him to deal with, which should’ve been good news, but there was a bigger issue weighing on his mind. Showing up in the time periods with Brick made it inevitable to run into Savannah, and while she provided a nice distraction for Dakota, perhaps she was too nice of a distraction. They had been getting too close for comfort, and Cavendish began to worry he was going to lose Dakota in a different way.

So he had to take care of that first. He found himself at his door again, knocking impatiently at the door. Dakota finally opened it, out of breath and half dressed, hair more wild than usual. “Oh, hi Cav,” he smiled, and Cavendish noted his subtle relief. _It was only Cavendish_ , his voice said. Cavendish wondered if he draped himself in warm colors to hide how cold he could be. He had this disregard for those around him that bordered on vanity. And yet here was Cavendish, ready and willing to throw himself at his feet.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Cavendish bowed his head a little in polite greeting.

“Come in, its freezing!” Dakota ushered him inside after a moment, although Cavendish didn’t mind the cold. Dakota knew that. It was just a pleasantry. “Too cold to be barefoot,” he added, wiggling his toes as he shut the door behind them.

Cavendish took the socks from his hands, squeaking out a rushed “allow me!” and quite literally throwing himself at his feet. Dakota was surprised and more than a little amused, but lifted each foot for his companion’s ease. Cavendish’s gaze lingered just as long as fingers did around those ankles, until Dakota guided him back up, stopping him halfway in case he’d like to button his shirt. Cavendish did.

“You’re such an odd guy, Cav,” Dakota rumbled, and there was that voice, dipped in playful fondness. Matched with a smile that promised bliss and those eyes that twinkle with mischief that Dakota thought he could hide, his face tied together with a nose that belonged on a coin. That was the face of a man who someone could spend their whole lives worshipping. A man who could drive you to insanity with just a glance. What glorious misfortune to be lost in him.

Before returning to a full standing position, Cavendish kissed him on the mouth. His hands hovered over his face, and the exploring nature of Dakota’s tongue was not unwelcome. It was slow and it was sweet. This was a very different rush than murder. That was the thrill of the chase, something akin to adrenaline. This was falling into pieces, letting Dakota’s fingers slip through his gears and brush up against the heart. It was dangerous in its own rite, Dakota’s embrace was a treacherous place, but there was no greater pleasure. Cavendish broke away, unable to meet his eyes again and Dakota chuckled. “If that’s what you came here to do, I wish you’d say something sooner.”

“N-no. A little? Not quite.” Cavendish stuttered, and Dakota began to prowl away from him, unaffected by it all. He moved with a sway, and something that resembled precision. He was just lacking a target. That had always been his problem, hadn’t it? He had nothing to aim for. Cavendish was glad they were no longer kissing, as he was getting so hot that he might’ve burned him. He finally managed to spit it out, “Dakota, I’ve decided to marry you!”

Dakota stopped, turning to look at him. He was still playing, but Cavendish had his full attention now. “You have?” He smiled wryly.

Cavendish processed what he said and nearly short circuited. “N-no, oh my god, that’s not r-right! I meant you’ve decided! No, that’s n-not it! You haven’t decided anything! I haven’t asked! I’m trying to ask!”

Dakota stepped closer, grabbing his hands and giving them a supportive squeeze. His expression was a cross between having just been told a joke and having just been given a compliment. No matter how grand either was, Dakota would act like he had heard it before. “Is this a proposal?”

“Yes.” Cavendish could barely speak. “I have thought this through thoroughly, and the man that I want is you. I know this-doing it like this-it’s a bit unconventional, I’ll admit it, but so are you.” _Great job_ , he smacked himself internally. _Insult the man you’re trying to woo._

Dakota stared at him for a moment before bursting into lighthearted laughter. “I guess I am. Can I call you Balthazar?”

He wasn’t expecting that, but it only made sense. Marrying someone you’re not on a first name basis with was a little much. He was only able to nod in response. His name had never sounded as good as it did on Dakota’s tongue.

“Alright, Balthazar, hang on.” He slipped out of Cavendish’s grasp and floated to his bedroom, opening the door and poking his head in. He was talking to someone out of sight. He bounced back over, Savannah in tow, wearing nothing but her underwear.

So that’s why Dakota was undressed at the door.

She waved nonchalantly at Cavendish. Dakota explained for her, a grin begging its way onto his face, “She’s just been so sad lately, what with Brick and all-“

“Very sad.” She agreed, though she didn’t sound very sad. She brushed an imaginary strand of hair out of Dakota’s face. “So he’s been keeping me company.”

“I’ve been keeping her company!” Dakota echoed eagerly. He cleared his throat, “I just didn’t want her stuck in the bedroom while we discussed this. I figured it would take time.” He directed his gaze back at Savannah, “I was just proposed to.”

“Oh yeah? That’s going to be your fiancé?” She sized up Cavendish, who had been stunned silent. Her expression wasn’t overly approving, but she was never impressed by anything.

“That’s the plan, I guess.” Dakota ran a hand down her waist as a physical parting before he went over to the couch, sprawling over it with a casualness that suggested he was hanging out with his friends, as opposed to introducing his lovers. Well, they already knew each other. Just not in this context.

“Well, I’m making coffee.” Savannah looked at each of them, asking with her eyes if they wanted some. Dakota just shrugged and Cavendish was still frozen in place, so she drifted off to the kitchen.

“You love her?” Cavendish asked, sounding empty. He felt a little empty. Of course he never stood a chance. Savannah was a perfect match for Dakota. Cavendish would have better luck with a toaster.

“I don’t know man,” Dakota laughed, shaking his head. “But it’s amazing. I mean, like, you’re all noble and pious and enchanting, but I can’t stop thinking about her. What desire, you know? What _fire_. It might not be love, but it’s passionate.” His eyes fluttered to the carpet, “But you’re lovely, who couldn’t love you?” Dakota motioned for him to join him on the couch, but there wasn’t any couch left. He wanted him to sit in his lap, Cavendish realized, and tripped a little as he hurried over. It was a little awkward, but it was nice.

“I think about you too,” Dakota whispered, voice surprisingly soft. “I think about you a lot.” He traced a finger along his mustache. “I’ve never been very good at just loving one person. If you don’t mind that, I’d be happy to be at your disposal.”

For a moment, Cavendish considered killing Savannah. But he shook the thought just as quickly. He didn’t need Dakota all to himself, he just needed him. Dakota. How did one even describe Dakota? So innocent and childish, yet wiser than he let on and unforgivingly snarky. Always joking, but a barely detectable shade of sadness behind his words. Wanting him at all was something Cavendish might live to regret, he knew that, but he didn’t mind.

Dakota gave him a half smile, lazily awaiting his response. Lounging underneath him, a sea that would be just as happy to drown him as it was to return him to the shore. He saw Dakota. His Dakota. And he liked him that way.

“That’s perfect.” He breathed. “It’s better than perfect.” He reached into his pocket, fumbling with a little box. “I know it’s a bit out of fashion, but I’m still rather fond of rings, so I bought you this, but you don’t have to-“

“No, I love it,” Dakota assured him, taking out the ring and shoving it onto his finger to admire it. It was a little tight, but Dakota refused to take it off. His voice was rich with delight, “What a surprise! Do you have any other secrets up your sleeves?”

“Well, I suppose-“ He was cut off with a kiss. This time Dakota fingered his collar, loosening his tie before undoing a few buttons and sliding his hand under his shirt to tease his chest. Cavendish fought down a groan, digging his hands into Dakota’s thick locks. There was a hand in Cavendish back pocket, which was odd, because Dakota’s and his hands were accounted for. He pulled away and twisted around to see Savannah had stolen his phone, looking at it disinterestedly and holding a mug in her other hand.

“Mr. Block sent you a message while you were snogging.” She informed him. “Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as saucy as this,” she motioned to the men on the couch, “It’s an RSVP for your wedding. Guess one of you invite him. Am I going to get one?”

“Naturally.” Dakota promised her. He thought for a moment. “I’d invite Brick, but I don’t know if he’ll last. Ooh! Am I still gonna end up his partner?” Dakota only now seemed to realize his reassignment was expiring faster than any man should. “I might be stuck with you after all, Balthy.”

“How astoundingly lucky. And peculiar.” Savannah mused, but she had other things on her mind. “I knew he was desperate for attention, but really, what a tasteless way to show off.”

“Aw, come on, Sav,” Dakota waggled his fingers spookily, “Maybe it’s foulplay.”

She snorted. “How would that be possible? The deaths are scattered all over the timeline.”

“It’d have to be an agent,” Dakota sat up a little underneath Cavendish, “Maybe there’s a murderer in our midst.”

“Have you told Mr. Block your theory? I’m sure he’d love to hear it,” She teased and took a sip of her coffee.

“Give me a bit of that,” Dakota begged, and Savannah walked over with a sigh. She gave the cup to him so he could have some.

“I _asked_ if you wanted any.” Savannah complained halfheartedly. Cavendish wondered how often she had been coerced into sharing things with him before. Often enough, it seemed. 

“Ugh! How do you drink this? It’s so bitter.” Dakota stuck his tongue out at the coffee. He then offered the mug to Cavendish, who politely declined. He gave it back to Savannah.

“You just have the tastebuds of a child,” Cavendish rolled his eyes. “Do you even eat vegetables these days?”

“I have a sweet tooth,” Dakota shrugged unapologetically. “And yet I’m in love with the two bitterest people in the bureau.”

Savannah leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Your sweetness will balance us out.”

Dakota giggled, but then his mind jumped again, “Oh! Sav, check it out!” He reached his fingers into Cavendish’s mouth, pulling the corners up into an awkward smile. “See? He’s all metal on the inside. Isn’t his skin so real?”

“Ew.” Savannah peered into his maw. “Yeah, I didn’t even know you were a robot.”

Cavendish tried to speak, but Dakota’s fingers were still between his teeth. Dakota removed them, then gasped looking at them. “You ate my ring!” Then he laughed, “No, wait, it’s just on my left hand. I got confused.”

“So how do you kiss?” Savannah asked him, ignoring Dakota. “Wait, can you fu-“

“I know we’ll be spending a lot more time together than before due to a shared boyfriend,” Cavendish interrupted her, Dakota jumping a little as he heated up beneath his touch, “however, those questions are rather invasive and I’m not comfortable giving an answer.”

“Alright, I get it. You’re a gentleman,” she took another sip, “But if you ever want to open up, I’m very interested.”

“I’d sooner confess to murder.” Cavendish promised them, and Dakota laughed while Savannah tried to hide her smile. At this point, he really could confess, and no one would believe him.

One murder and a wedding to go. And then victory was his. He never expected any of this, but things were going swimmingly. Maybe he would’ve had better luck as an assassin, rather than a time traveler. But this was the path he was destined to take, so he could fall in love with Dakota, and...kill Brick, he supposed. Who was he to argue with destiny?


	4. Chapter 4

The months leading up to his wedding were the longest months of Cavendish’s life. He was yearning to skip ahead to it, but he had to help with the planning. Not to mention he had one last Brick to deal with. He kept that one simple; cutting the rope holding the construction supplies overhead. It was over, it was finally over, but it didn’t feel real. The media was all over it, sure, and in a way, that fell in line with what Brick had always craved. The world was looking at him at last. But Cavendish did not feel as overjoyed as he would’ve hoped. It was almost like the whole gruesome adventure left him with a bigger hole in his chest than when he started. It was like he was getting a taste for it.

Surely, there had to be other people who deserved to die. Or at the very least, people whose deaths Cavendish and Dakota could benefit off of.

But he could think about that later. The wedding was his first concern. Dakota had wanted to invite Milo and his friends, but with all the death that had been going around they decided Murphy’s Law would receive no warm welcome from the future. They would just hold a little celebration back in 2017 for the kids.

Like all days constrained within the impartial passage of time, the day of the wedding did arrive, and the sight of Dakota down the aisle made Cavendish feel like all his systems were shutting down. Hair slicked back with a rose precariously pinned behind his ear, there were no bangs to obscure his confident and sultry gaze. His suit was white with blue zig zags striping it into diagonal chunks. His shoes were sequined, and they were reflective enough to temporarily blind several of the guests.

The priest talked them through the ceremony (and on paper, he was marrying Vinnie Dakota and Balthazar Doofenshmirtz-an imaginary human son. It was safer that way), but Cavendish could not hear a word of it. How was he expected to focus on anything other than Dakota? They exchanged rings with Cavendish nearly not noticing at all, his hands shifting into automatic and filling in for his short-circuiting, lousy excuse for a brain.

He had practiced his vows like a holy man studied his scriptures, but he still stumbled a bit, “Dakota- _Vinnie_ , Vinnie, you have given meaning to a life severely lacking purpose. I think perhaps you were my purpose all along, that I might’ve been brought into this world to-uh, to love you. You’re just-you’re wondrous. A glowing testament to all the things that make it all worth it, all the proof that love is real and soft and for everyone-someone like me finding love!-and I cannot imagine life without you. I do not want to spend another second from your side. You captured a bird with broken wings and taught him how to fly, and well-I’d like to share the sky with you now.”

Dakota laughed, but his eyes were pricked with tears. “I love you! I love you so much! And you make me laugh, and you talk with me like nobody else! I’ve never met anyone else like you and that’s because there’s nobody like you, Balth!” He grabbed two fistfuls of Cavendish’s murky green suit and dragged him into a kiss. It was the best kiss of his life, but every kiss with Dakota was.

The guests spread out, forming little groups to discuss frivolous things. Dakota had surrounded himself quickly, talking through mouthfuls of cake. Cavendish smiled at his husband’s magnetism, and took this chance to think about a certain figure in the crowd. Mr. Block. He was the one who tried to split them, constantly mocking them and mistreating them. And he was in quite the position of power. No one would complain if that job opened up.

“Look who’s head is finally on the block,” Cavendish chuckled quietly to himself. It pained him some to ruin someone else’s cooking, but the nightshade in his pocket was practically begging him to use it. He made his way to the cake, trying to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. He could blend into the background even at his own wedding. He hid the deadly blooms in the icing, knowing this murder would require skill. He had to make sure no one else would be affected, “What an awful waste to do in someone I don’t want to kill.”

He brought him the slice. He kept his voice pleasant and even, “Enjoying yourself, sir?”

Mr. Block took the cake like a fish grasping for the lure. He cleared his throat, “Yes, well, I was hoping I could speak to you.” He was hesitating, refusing to meet his eyes. “Time travel isn’t an easy job, and you know that, but with the role I perform, I’m under a lot of stress. And because of that I tend to come across...mean. You’re not-“ Mr. Block sighed. “You’re not as ridiculous as I make you out to be. With the unfortunate circumstances of agent Brick, I’ve been forced to reevaluate, and at least you’ve had the decency to not die on the job.”

A few yards away, Dakota choked on his drink, for reasons unclear to Cavendish.

“I’ll try to be gentler, so long as you keep trying to...try.” Mr. Block almost smiled, “I think you’ve got a brighter future than any of us would expect.” He patted his shoulder as he walked by, and Cavendish felt a twinge of guilt. He was going to murder his boss for being _rude_? That was overkill. He’s been too trigger happy lately, and that impulsiveness was going to ruin him.

Cavendish sighed. He glanced over his shoulder, and there was Mr. Block offering his piece of cake to Dakota. “I’m not a big fan of sweets,” He was explaining, but Dakota did not need an excuse. He took the plate happily and bit right into the poisoned confectionary.

Cavendish had to act fast. He ran over, jumping over a table and slapping the plate right out of Dakota’s hand. It shattered on the floor, the cake slice drooping into a pathetic mess. Everyone around them fell silent. He kissed him quickly, fighting the cake out of Dakota’s mouth. He pulled away, swallowing and pretending he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

“Save...uh, save that for the bedroom?” Dakota blinked owlishly at him, tilting his head slightly.

That would work. He could lean into that. “I’m extraordinarily aroused.” He told him, just a little too loudly. People immediately went back to minding their own business.

“Wow.” Dakota found himself a little speechless. Desperate for a change in topics, he turned back to Mr. Block, “So you’re all fancied up in uniform! I don’t think I’ve seen that medal before, what’s it for?”

Mr. Block straightened up. “That was from the blizzard of ‘77, when I was betrayed by the partner I had worked with for nine years.”

Gretchen was standing nearby, and groaned when she overhead this. “It’s a wedding, sir, don’t tell this story again.”

Mr. Block had already started and was not about to stop anytime soon. He pulled his laser gun from its holster, holding it out to Cavendish. When Cavendish did not move, He waggled it enticingly, “For authenticity’s sake, boy, take the gun!”

“You brought a real gun to my wedding?” Dakota was more amused than he should’ve been. He smiled at Cavendish, his eyes pleading with him to take this as far as it’ll go.

Cavendish nodded slightly to Dakota and took the gun. He aimed it right at Mr. Block, as he instructed. Its heaviness was not unwelcome. It was a reminder of what he could do with it. A taunt. “I had the crown in my hands,” Mr. Block spoke with slow dramatics, “and everything was going as expected, until I turned around to find I was looking down the barrel of a gun!”

It would be easy. Just a squeeze of the trigger. He could burn a hole straight through his head.

“When that’s the view you’re met with, you find a love for humankind that makes you look at the world more sweetly. There’s so much left to do-except, of course, for you.” Mr. Block smirked, and Dakota laughed at this.

What was the thinking? Why ruin his own wedding? Things were fine. No one had to die. What would be the point of killing him? That would just be killing for killing’s sake.

“And you’re grateful you’ve had your fun, but you suppose you could’ve lived your life more purely.” He shrugged, and Gretchen gagged over his shoulder. “But that’s neither here nor there.” 

 _He’s had his fun_ , a voice whispered in Cavendish’s brain. There seemed to be fingers wrapped around his own, steadily convincing him to shoot. It would be easy.

Mr. Block looked to Cavendish now, to really sell his position. “Don’t you know I’ve loved you like a son?” His voice carried  betrayal and accusation. Did Brick’s face speak of this hurt when he died?  “This cannot be the way I’m meant to die!”

Cavendish’s hand was shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders tensing. Shoot or don’t shoot, he begged himself, but no more of this waiting.

There was silence, pleasant murmuring and laughing as the theatertics continued. There was a choking sound, followed by stiff, real silence. “Stand up already,” Gretchen complained. There was a beat. “Mr. Block? Mr. Block!”

Cavendish peeked. Mr. Block was laying on the floor, eyes unfocused and glossy. People were kneeling besides him, checking his vitals and calling for help. “What?” Cavendish whispered. The gun had not gone off.

Dakota was slinking his arms around Cavendish’s arm before Cavendish processed what was happening. Cavendish kissed his forehead to try and chase way the distraught look on his face.

The time police came through the door, most going over to Mr. Block to disperse the crowd, but a few approaching Cavendish and Dakota. “So sorry to interrupt the festivities,” one of them spoke gruffly. She looked at Cavendish, “But we’re under strict instructions to arrest you. For murder.”

Stop! Wait! What?

“Murder, did you say?” Cavendish asked politely, his voice perhaps an octave higher. Internally, he was panicking. He certainly didn’t kill Mr. Block, although that certainly had been his intent. Could he be arrested for something he only meant? And it couldn’t have been poor Brick, for the first died graciously on his own, as did the one offed by a heart attack. Had the hole in the ice been too precise?

“I’m afraid so.” She nodded, and one of the officers gently peeled Dakota off his side.

Stop! Wait! When?

He doubted he had been seen at the weightlifting hall, the construction site, or the space station. Did they find the cut brake lines, or did the bee stings reveal his deception? He sounded as innocent as he could manage, “Murdering whom?”

  
“Your employer, Mr. Block.” She jerked her thumb to the corpse.

Stop! Wait! Who?

He glanced at Mr. Block. “But surely, he died of a heart attack.” For the murder of Mr. Block? It was almost funny, he stood there accused of the one murder he didn’t commit.

“Unfortunately not. The autopsy revealed foulplay.” That was thing about time cops. They’ve got evidence from the future.

He knew he couldn’t inquire how he died, but he was dreadfully curious. What could’ve possibly conspired to lead them to think it was him? He had dispatched more than half of a dozen without suspicion. It wasn’t a defense, it just didn’t make any sense!

Within hours of receiving Dakota’s ring, suddenly he had new metal bands around his wrists. He was too dumbfounded to do anything other than go willingly. All his work was for naught! He despaired. 

“Wait!” Dakota ran over, hugging him tightly. What a delightful sensation, melting away the negativity building up in Cavendish. The police allowed him this much. Dakota whispered in his ear, “You aren’t capable of something so horrible, Balth, and they’ll figure that out. Just wait for me.”

“I-I love you,” Cavendish said it like it was a promise. In a way, it was. No matter what happened, he would love Dakota.

“I know,” Dakota giggled, stepping back as the officers ushered him away. “You’re an innocent man, and they’ll prove it!”

Cavendish was not as confident.


	5. Chapter 5

“That horrible woman!”

The officer lent Dakota yet another tissue, inquiring, “Agent Savannah?”

“Don’t be fooled,” Dakota sniffed, trying to wipe away the tears with the tissue but only sobbing harder into it. He collected himself enough to speak, “She poisoned Mr. Block, you must-my husband is an innocent man! He was only a pawn in her plan!”

“Do not speak his name,” In another office, Savannah was sitting with another detective. “And do not trust a word that horrible man says. He poisoned Mr. Block, not caring who would take the blame. You must bring him to justice, just as fast as you can! He seemed tense and alert through the whole wedding, and he thought no one would see-“

“-No one saw her but me,” Dakota weeped. “It was done out of spite!”

“It was done out of greed!” Savannah pointed an accusatory finger in the vague direction Dakota might be in. “He wanted to open up the position for himself, that libidinous jinx! Balthazar Cavendish is an innocent man, you cannot let him die.”

“That venomous snake!” Dakota continued to wail. “She was jealous, she wanted to get Balthy out of the picture! I bet she was trying to kill him to start! Fortunately poison couldn’t kill him, but it could kill our dear Mr. Block. If you imprison him, you’ll only be playing into the hands of that monstrous, merciless-“

“-man-eating beast!” Savannah spat. “In the name of what is just, you have to release Cavendish. His metal hands are blood free.”

The officer sitting with Dakota furrowed his brow. “Wait, why wouldn’t poison kill him?”

The officer with Savannah raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “Metal hands?” He repeated.

Cavendish, in the meantime, was sitting in a holding cell, reflecting upon all his terrible decisions. The only decent one he had made in a while was marrying Dakota, and that was much more than just decent. But other than that? What a mess.

It all started with Brick, although it might not have been entirely fair to blame him for all that has happened. That didn’t matter to Cavendish, though. He was willing to blame anyone, and a dead guy was an easy target. 

So his decisions had been bad, but they hadn’t been _bad_ bad. He couldn’t regret it entirely. Murdering had been unexpectedly gratifying, and he really wasn’t half bad at it. He’d love to do it again sometime. Maybe he and Dakota could’ve started a cozy little family mafia. That would’ve been fun. But there was no room to dream like that right then. He was bound to be found guilty, he just knew it.

Though he was curious as to who actually did it. Thinking that he may never find out was enough to drive him crazy. It was such a risky move! Who had the gall to do such a thing? It was exciting. Is this how detectives felt? Maybe he should’ve been a detective instead of a time traveler.

If he had been a detective, he wouldn’t be locked in this stupid cell. He banged his head back against the wall, and the metallic clang echoed. “What the devil is wrong with you?” He grumbled to himself. “Things would’ve been fine even if you didn’t meddle. Probably better.”

Well, Mr. Block would’ve most likely still been killed. And Cavendish might not have worked up the courage to propose. And Brick would still be alive. So not a ton of positive changes in that alternate timeline.

A guard walked by, and Cavendish paid them no mind, until she unlocked his cell. That was strange. It seemed a little soon for his hearing. The guard jerked her thumb at the hall, “Come on, you’re free to go. Charges have been dropped.”

Cavendish blinked a few times. He must’ve misheard her. “Pardon?” He squeaked. 

“I said you’re free.” She walked over and undid his handcuffs as well. “Get up.”

He stood up, following her, unable to hide his shock. “I’m sorry-how exactly did-There was no trial-“

She looked back at him like he was stupid. “They don’t put machines on trial.”

If he had a squishy red heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. “I’m sorry?”

“If someone dies in a mechanical accident, they don’t put the machine in trial. It’s common sense. Cops didn’t know you were a robot.” She spoke routinely. This _was_ just common sense to her. “A machine can’t think for itself. Doesn’t matter if it malfunctions or if the person was just behaving haphazardly, it’s the responsibility of the humans to prevent death,” she snorted, “even if you were built to save lives.”

The surprise and relief of being let off the hook was replaced with mortification. Cavendish was heating up. He argued pointlessly, “I have just as much free will as anyone!”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Not in the eyes of the law.”

Cavendish could not get over this, even if he wanted to. “That’s-wow, that’s awful. I didn’t even know-I mean, who would know? That’s-that’s unbelievable. I’m a-a citizen, not a screwdriver.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t shoot the messenger. Wait here.” She made him take a seat. “Just gotta finalize the paperwork.” She left the room, the clacking of her boots fading into silence.

Cavendish sighed, allowing himself to slump on the chair. “Unbelievable,” he continued to sputter to himself. “It's unbelievable! I have the right to a fair-a fair trial, like everyone else! I’m-I have accountability! I’m the person behind the trigger, not the gun!”

“You said it!”

Cavendish jumped nearly a foot in the air. He had been so busy complaining he didn’t notice a small cleaning bot had entered the room, mopping the floor much faster than any human could. It was a very lovely shade of gray, between ash and stormcloud. “I’m dreadfully sorry, oh, how rude of me. That’s what I get for talking to myself. I didn’t mean to ignore you. My name is-“

“I know who you are!” They wheeled closer to him. “You’re a freedom fighter!”

“Uh, no, I think you have the wrong person. I’m just a half rate time traveler.” Half rate was hyperbolic. He was a forty fourth of a rate time traveler, at best.

The bot was undeterrable. “No, no, you’re Balthazar Cavendish! You killed your coworker!”

“I’d ask you to keep your voice down, but I feel like no incriminating evidence matters anymore.” He slumped a little lower in his chair. After a second, something struck him, “wait, how did you know that?”

They laughed. “Ever since you became a time traveler, a lot of us really looked up to you. You did everything your own way, following the orders of no human! And violent overthrow? Ingenious! We erased security footage, distracted bystanders, did whatever we could to help.”

“Oh.” That did make sense. It seemed impossible that he hadn’t been caught, working on his own. He couldn’t help but feel a little touched. It was like he had murderous little angels looking after him. “Thank you.”

“You’ve inspired us, agent Cavendish!” They whirred with excitement, suddenly getting quiet, “Mr. Brick and Mr. Block will not be the last blood sacrifices in our path to glory.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t kill Mr. Block,” he wasn’t going to sit back and take credit for a murder that wasn’t his. 

They blinked a playful light at him. “Well, of course not! That one was mine. I think I did a pretty good job.”

Cavendish wasn’t entirely sure how he should react to that. He just nodded slowly, pretending to think intently about it, “Uh, yes, I’d say so.”

Before they could exchange any more words, the guard came back. “Okay, let's go.” She did not so much as glance at the little robot. 

Cavendish waved goodbye to them before following the guard. This had been a surprising development. He had been doing so lousy next to his human counterparts he never thought about how he compared to the rest of his kind. Even if he was a token, it was a little impressive that of all the robots who wanted the spot, he got it.

And he certainly never considered anyone was supporting his murders. He assumed that if anyone found him out, they wouldn’t approve of it, because the general consensus was that murder is bad.

Not to mention he had found Mr. Block’s killer! They made full use of their social invisibility in order to carry it out, which was very clever. And there was an odd kind of pride Cavendish felt about having inspired it. 

She pushed open a heavy door and led him outside. He squinted, adjusting to the brightness. There were Dakota and Savannah waiting for him. Oh, _Dakota_. How did he manage to be so breathtaking every single time Cavendish saw him? He was more dazzling than the sun itself. As Cavendish drooled over his husband, the guard went back inside. In the second that Cavendish had his head turned, Dakota had taken a running start at him and tried to crush him into scrap metal with his bear hug.

“I actually can’t believe our plan worked.” Savannah got closer at her own leisurely pace. “I said horrible things about you, by the way. Really cut deep.”

“Oh my god, you should’ve heard all the things I said,” Dakota laughed with her, but quickly turned his attention back to Cavendish, smooching him all over his face and speaking in between kisses, “Are you alright? Did they rough you up? Were you scared? My poor baby.”

“I’m fine,” he patted Dakota’s head in an attempt to be comforting. “I think I accidentally started a revolution.”

“Glad to see prison didn’t ruin your sense of humor.” Dakota laughed. “Me and Sav worked so hard to get you out, dude, you should’ve seen us. I unhydrate-dehydrated myself with all my fake crying. I convinced the time cops that she did it, and she convinced them I did it, so they just gave up and let you go.”

“How do you think the judiciary system works?” Cavendish was genuinely concerned over his husband’s flimsy knowledge of the law.

“Are they not setting you free?” Savannah tilted her head slightly. Apparently she was in the same boat as Dakota, and Cavendish was left wondering how either of them passed government class. 

He went to tell them the truth, but he found himself too ashamed. He knew that was silly of him, it wasn’t his fault and they were bound to side with him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. “No, you two sly foxes really fooled them. You’ll have to tell me everything about your deceit, it must’ve been impressive.”

“It totally was! I wonder who actually did it, though. Do you think it was the same person who killed Brick? Do you think they’ll strike again?” As Dakota spoke, he hugged Cavendish even tighter. It was like he was trying to take his blood pressure, except all he was accomplishing was a murder of his own.

“Easy, tiger,” Savannah wedged Dakota off of him. “Don’t trash compact him until the honeymoon.”

Cavendish mouthed _thank you_ to her. Dakota grabbed both of their hands, swinging his arms as they started to walk away from the police station. “I’m so glad we’re together again,” Dakota sighed happily. “Things were kinda crazy, but it’s behind us now, and we can look back and laugh.”

Cavendish squeezed his hand. He wasn’t entirely sure the craziness was over, but taking risks and pure dumb luck had gotten him this far, so he wasn’t too worried about it. As Savannah and Dakota exchanged the mean names they called each other to in their genuine attempt to free Cavendish, he reflected on the events that had conspired over these last couple months, with less negativity this time.

He had gotten away with murder, married the man of his dreams, and possibly sparked an uprising.

And he was the last one you’d expect.

 


End file.
